


Captivity

by ResidentHothead



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: But there will be a happy ending because my bitchass can't stand sad endings, Easy Street, Established Rickyl, Like literally I get angry if something ends the way I don't want it to, M/M, Mentions of past abuse, Negan is a fucc, Obnoxious Song Lyrics, Past Child Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Public Humiliation, Public Sex, Rape/Non-con Elements, Self-Harm, Sex Toys, Some Alternating POVs, That needs it's own tag, bottom!daryl, this is not a nice fic, top!rick
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-02
Updated: 2018-05-02
Packaged: 2019-04-17 20:02:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14196651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ResidentHothead/pseuds/ResidentHothead
Summary: Daryl does his best to survive in Negan's captivity without giving into past demons and letting new ones overwhelm him.





	Captivity

**Author's Note:**

> Bo Burnham's
> 
>  
> 
> _Kill Yourself_
> 
>  
> 
> is what Daryl is writing, plus some obviously altered lines to fit the universe.
> 
> Help.

_Kill yourself, it'll only take a minute_  
_You'll be happy that you did it_  
 _Just go over to your oven_  
 _and shove your head in it_  
  
So maybe it wasn't the best move to be writing on the counter while no one was looking. But they couldn't trace it back to him, could they? Nah. Everyone was in and out of the damn kitchen all day. And they'd have to really look to see Daryl's little marker poem, which everyone would know is directed to Negan.  
  
_Kill yourself, really, you should do it_  
_There's really nothing to it_  
 _Just grab a mug_  
 _and chug a cup of lighter fluid_  
  
The dishes were getting done, but he'd add a verse each time he was alone in the room. Really, it was relieving to even have a few moments alone during the day that wasn't cooped up in that fucking cell with that godforsaken music blasting and driving him crazy.  
  
_Kill yourself, it won't be painful_  
_if you are able_  
 _to give a little kiss to an oncoming train, You'll_  
 _kill yourself, it's over, mull it_  
 _There's a trigger, pull it_  
 _Get it through your head, and "it" being a bullet_  
  
The sleeves of his sweatshirt were getting soaked, but Daryl refused to pull them up. It'd be relieving to whipe his damp sleeves across his face when he's outside in the hot sun working the fence. It was days like that, that Daryl wished he wasn't the poster boy for child abuse with a map of scars all across his back explaining to anyone who saw that 'daddy didn't love him'.  
  
_Stick your tongue in a plug_  
_Suck a pipe of exhaust_  
 _Make some toast in the tub_  
 _Nail yourself to a cross_  
  
Really, these fucking people ought'a rinse their damn dishes after they use them, because this shit was _not_ coming off. But it _had_ to, because that was Daryl's job. And he had about ten more minutes before Dwight's scrawny ass came in here and started screaming at him. That irritated the fuck outta him, how Dwight would take his frustrations out on Daryl, even though they were near in the same situation. Both under Negan's thumb. Only Daryl wasn't dumb enough to pledge loyalty or some stupid shit like that. He'd work for the man, but only under blackmail or a gun being pointed to his head. But he was still _Daryl_. And even though being Daryl wasn't ever the greatest, it was better than being a Negan. Because that was just fucking pathetic.  
  
_Hold your breath til it's gone_  
_Drink a gallon of mace_  
 _Grab a walker's tongue_  
 _Let Fat Joey sit on your face_  
  
His feet were starting to hurt now, all this standing and working. It wasn't like he wasn't doing this constantly, but he usually went without all these damn beatings. And it was scary how well he'd adjusted back to them again, just like the world before. Only this time, he wasn't scared. This time, he could take a hit. Because he was a damn survivor, and these people wouldn't break him. Nobody has, nobody will. He had to be strong, he _would_ be strong. Rick was waiting...  
  
_Jump off of a bridge_  
_Skinny dip in a flood_  
 _Skydive attatched to a fridge_  
 _Drink a biter's blood_  
  
_Find yourself an old zoo_  
 _Give the tiger a shove_  
 _Eat a Phillips Head Screw_  
 _Swallow your faggy glove - ♥_  
  
Hiding the grin on his face, Daryl used a serving tray to cover up his graffiti and finished stacking up the dishes he'd just washed as Dwight came marching in. "Are you finished in here?" Dwight asked, obviously annoyed. And Daryl remained silent. If Dwight wanted his answer, he could fucking look. He didn’t answer to anybody. Hearing an irritated growl behind him, the handle stitched into the back of his shirt was jerked backwards, causing Daryl to stumble back before regaining his balance, and allowed himself to be pushed through the cooridors and outside. Yep, working the fence. He knew it. This schedule wasn’t consistent, but it was predictable.


End file.
